


VIII. Star - Stolen In His Eyes

by 56leon



Series: 2018 Inktober Prompts / Fictober Fills [8]
Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Experimental Style, Gen, Stars, Thieves From Space Question Mark?, the AU is hard to describe in tag format, this could have been fleshed out to be 5k+ but I'm on a time crunch here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 11:42:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16283969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/56leon/pseuds/56leon
Summary: Inktober/Fictober Day 8. Star. Late.They say he’s a thief who can steal anything. The greatest treasure, the grandest jewel. Even the stars out of the sky.She doesn’t believe them, of course.





	VIII. Star - Stolen In His Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> I ended up sick for a hot second, in a "I have to go to work but my brain can't comprehend the written language" kind of way, so I'm trying to play catch-up as much as I can. Hopefully I'll be able to get 9 (Precious) and 10 (Flowing) out tonight as well, but.......we'll see.
> 
> In other news, this is bleh. I tried.

## We are made of starstuff.  
               -Carl Sagan

* * *

They say he’s a thief who can steal anything. The greatest treasure, the grandest jewel. Even the stars out of the sky.

She doesn’t believe them, of course. Her family runs a business, and if there’s something she’s learned from her days spent minding the store with her parents, it’s that anything valued enough can never be stolen. Not just material objects, like jewelry and paintings, but also lives, hearts- the things that truly matter in the end, when there’s nothing left and you don’t have a leaf to your name. She believes all this....

Then one day, her journal gets stolen.

“ _You_ ,” are the first accusatory words out of her mouth as she stares at him, the boy who dares to sit where her journal once had. He had come out of nowhere, but she knows that he's the one with her most prized possession, and she won't let him just leave her room with it.”You can't just steal whatever you want! Give it back!”

He stares at her, and he doesn't verbalize it, but there's a distinct _haaaaaah?_ written on his face. “I don't give anything back,” he finally says after a moment of silence and a finger pointed at his face. “And I'm using it, so no.”

“Well you're not leaving without giving it back,” she scowls, crossing her arms in front of herself with a huff. “You're staying right here until you do!”

It's surprising how quickly he relents, despite the annoyance in his eyes. “I'll stay here,” he retorts, “but I'm leaving _with the book_ once you've had enough of me.” She pauses in surprise. “You don't have the patience. I have all the time in the world.”

“We'll see about that,” she says, still frowning, and sits right in front of him until she falls asleep. He stays right where he is, even after here eyes slide shut.

The game begins.

* * *

 There's a vial hanging around his neck, peeking out underneath the large scarf that covers a good portion of his shoulders. “What is that?” She asks, when she begins to notice the container slowly but surely emptying.

“It’s stardust,” he says, pinching the silver chain it's on and swinging it between his fingers like a glittery pendulum. “Helps me fly.”

“Liar.”

“Sometimes, but not right now.”

“It's disappearing. You're using it.”

“Because I'm supposed to be up there.” He points up at her ceiling, then out her window at the night sky. “I’m a star thief. I’m supposed to be with the stars.”

“That makes no sense,” she all but shouts, only keeping her voice low so as to not rouse her parents. “You're supposed to steal the stars!”

He frowns. “They don't belong to anyone, idiot. I can't steal something that isn't owned.”

That makes more sense than she cares to admit, and so she scowls instead. “Well that still doesn't explain the star thing,” she mumbles, humbled by his logic (if just barely). “How'd you get _here_ if you're supposed to be _there?”_

He doesn't answer. Of course he flew, she knows that, and he knows that she knows that. However, the answer he gives isn't the obvious, but something else that Tressa can't even begin to understand.

“I just followed an adventure.”

* * *

 The vial empties out, and that's when things get weird. He starts turning white as a sheet; she has to ask why. The answer she gets in return isn't great.

“You’re......dying?”

“Course I am,” he mutters, somehow looking paler by the minute even though he’s still sitting upright, not having left the place he had initially appeared. “I told you I’m supposed to be up there.” He points up at the sky, his arm trembling under the weight of keeping itself up. “That's where I live. Can’t be up there if I can’t fly.”

She trembles slightly, not wanting to believe it. It's....it's her fault, but admission isn't easy. “Liar,” she says softly before bolting out of the room. She already knows what his reply would be.

* * *

 A merchant can find anything if they set their mind on it, and she bursts into the room carrying a small vial of powder that looks, if not identical, then similar to the one he had before.

“Stardust,” she shouts, and he looks at her in faded amazement. “It helps you fly, right? You promised you wouldn’t get caught, and that.....that means dying! So you’re supposed to fly away now!”

As soon as the vial touches his hand, he seems to brighten considerably, and she knows that he plans to leave. He wants to leave, he _has_ to, and it's not in her power to stop him anymore. “Thanks, kid,” he mutters, no longer weak but still quiet.

She sniffs. “I have a name, you know.”

He laughs. “I know.”

She’s not sad. She's not.

(She's a terrible liar.)

He looks at her one last time, eyes shining with trust and gratitude, before his entire body begins to light up. Particle by particle, like small fireflies floating into the heavens, she can only watch as he begins to ascend, and while it may not be what she had imagined, she thinks that this is what flying must _feel_ like.

When he disappears, he leaves behind, along with an empty vial, one small rectangle of an object, and she hesitantly picks up her journal that had initially been lost. It may be worn, tattered and torn from years of use, but it still holds incredible value- even more when she sees that the thief hasn’t left it completely untouched, the entire first page that was originally blank now covered with a memento to prove that he had been there at all.

It has a note and it has a drawing, but above all else, written in ink the same deep purple as his scarf, it has his name.

_To the little merchant girl who thought I couldn’t steal anything I want. Maybe you were right, but I’m still not wrong. See you soon._

_Signed-_

* * *

 Therion is a thief who can steal anything. Nobody knows where that greatest treasure is buried, or which millionaire that grandest jewel has been auctioned off to, but Tressa has a a suspicion, a _small, sneaking suspicion_ that the stars in the sky are right at home, nestled within the twinkle in his eyes.


End file.
